Chanukkmas
by Trn736
Summary: Randy and Sharon go out of town for Christmas and leave Stan home alone for the holiday. It sucks being lonely during Christmas... Kyle would know.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **All places and characters referenced to the television show _**South Park **_are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

**A/N**: Special thanks to Heidi28 for this story idea.

"Negative 33°C… Jesus Christ…," Stan snuggled into his fleece blanket as he turned from his computer to the window and the snow falling beyond.

Multi-colored lights reflected off the snow lighting up the entire area. Most houses on Stan's block were decorated for the occasion: blue ice sickle lights on some, white or rainbow colored lights on others, large blow-up or wire-lit snowmen, reindeer, or Santas in yards, bushes and small trees wrapped with even more sparkling lights, decorations in windows, and wreathes on doors.

"Defiantly looks and feels like Christmas eve," Stan said aloud, smiling to himself.

"Oh, Randy! You shouldn't have!"

Stan turned to his door cocking his head in interest of the excitement in his mother's voice.

"These had to cost a lot of money!"

Stan had to see what was going on. He hopped out of his chair and headed to the kitchen.

"You're worth it, babe!" Randy smiled as Stan walked in.

"Oh, you!" Sharon embraced her husband.

"What's going on?" Stan inquired.

"Oh, your dad is just being the most romantic guy on the face of the planet right now!" Sharon playfully slapped Randy's arm.

"Uh… Alright... How so?"

"He bought two tickets for a week long cruise through the Caribbean!" She was giddy.

"Oh, cool!" Stan responded with approval.

"When do you guys leave?"

Randy grinned, "Tonight."

"Tonight?!" Both Sharon and Stan exasperated.

"Our plane leaves out of Denver in five hours!"

"But… Tomorrow's Christmas...,"Stan sadly reminded.

"Don't worry, son we'll celebrate when we get back," Randy reassured.

"But… -," he was cut off by Sharon, "What about the kids?"

"The kids?" Randy laughed nervously, "The kids are staying with one of their friends while we're gone… I already worked that out," Randy motioned to Stan with his eyes. "I need to go get the tickets out of the car, I'll be right back."

Stan followed his dad to the garage.

"What the hell, dad?!" Stan was livid.

"Stan, I know you're not too happy with me right now…"

"You're damn right I'm not too happy right now! That whole 'staying with a friend' thing was a blatant lie… You're leaving us alone for a week… On Christmas at that?! Does Shelly know about this?!"

Randy hushed him, "Yes, Shelly knows about this."

"Look," he began, "This is what I offered Shelly; if you two can make it for a week and not destroy the house or get yourselves killed, I will buy you anything you want for Christmas."

A wave of antipathy washed over Stan's face as he stared at his father.

"You'll be leaving your 10 year-old son and 13 year-old daughter home alone for the most family oriented holiday of the year… Doesn't that bother you even a little bit?!" He asked, dejectedly.

"You won't be completely alone… I mean, you'll have Shelly at least," Randy offered.

"I'd rather be completely alone for a week during Christmas than spend it with her in charge!" Tears of anger and sadness welled in his eyes as he turned away from his father.

"Nelson got me these tickets for an incredible price last minute… Please, Stan… Our marriage really needs this," Randy nearly begged for the cooperation of his son.

Stan wiped his tears on his sleeve and turned back to his dad.

"What did Shelly ask for?"

"Some ludicrously expensive pair of jeans and $100 for some other thing – I forgot what it was."

"And you're okay with that?" Stan knew his dad could be cheap sometimes.

"I said anything…," he reminded.

"I want a PS4."

"A PS4. Alright, I can make that happen."

"Really?" Stan was surprised.

"I told you; I said anything."

Stan eyed his dad skeptically, "If you don't get Shelly and I what you promised us when you get back, I'm going to tell mom that you bribed us and left us home alone for a week."

"I'm a man of my word, Stan. Okay? Gosh!" His eyes shifted nervously back and forth.

"I'm serious, dad. I will tell mom."

"Okay! Okay! I will! I swear!"

Stan nodded and returned to his room.

* * *

A few hours later, Sharon entered Stan's room with a suitcase in her hand.

"We're about ready to leave…," she leaned her bag against the wall and sat down next to her son on his bed.

"Don't worry, honey we'll have Christmas when your dad and I get back. I'll make us a nice dinner and we'll play games and watch movies and open presents, okay?"

"Kay…"

"Dad told me your kids' rides are going to be here soon… Make sure you're ready when they get here and remember to be a good boy."

Stan rolled his eyes, "Alright, mom."

"We'll talk to you in about a week," she hugged him, "Love you."

"Love you too," Stan responded as she walked out.

Shortly thereafter, he heard the front door shut and the car drive into the distance.

Stan poked around on his computer for about another hour.

His stomach growled.

He made his way back to the kitchen in search of food.

"Christ… The least dad could have done before ditching us for a week is made sure we had food," he said to himself as he rummaged through the cupboards.

"Shelly?" He asked innocently approaching his big sister in the living room.

"What do you want, turd?" She glared at him.

"Um… I'm hungry. Could you make us some food, please?"

"I ate before I came home cause I knew mom and dad were leaving."

"Well, could you make me something then? Please? All I know how to make are sandwiches and we're all out of bread…"

"Make yourself something else, then!" Her voice was rising in anger.

"But I don't know how to use the oven and we don't have anything for the microwave," he looked as his feet.

"That's too bad!" She stormed over to him, "Looks like it's time for bed!"

"But it's only 8:30… and I'm hungry…," Stan whined.

"I said go to bed, turd," she screamed as she punched him hard in the chest.

Stan collapsed to the ground gasping for air.

"What… The… Hell… Shelly…?!" He wheezed, tears streaming down his face.

"Ha! Crybaby…," she shrugged off her brother and resumed watching television.

After recovering on the floor for a few moments, Stan gingerly stood up and quietly walked back to his room holding his left ribs.

Hungry and bruised, he hit the lights.

"I'm sure this'll be the best Christmas ever," he chortled sarcastically as he fell face-first into his pillow.

Wincing at his tender side, he gave up for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Contrary to the normal Christmas, Stan was far from eager to get out of bed on this particular morning.

He rolled over and squinted at his phone on the nightstand: _11:09AM_.

Upon waking he was instantly reminded of how hungry he was – so hungry he almost felt sick.

He sighed as he threw his feet over the side of the bed and sat up.

A sharp pain shot through his side; he yelped as he clutched it.

"God…"

He approached his bedroom mirror and gently pulled his shirt up.

A large area of his upper left side was a dark bluish purple color.

"Stupid Shelly…," He angrily threw his shirt off and proceeded to get cleaned up for the day.

_11:57AM_. He glanced at the time again as he pulled on a clean shirt.

His stomach growled; he felt like he was going to throw up.

"Ugh…"

Stan decided to head back to the kitchen, this time determined to eat just about anything he could find.

After a few minutes of quietly rummaging through the refrigerator, the freezer, and every cupboard in the kitchen he scrounged together a makeshift meal: some crackers with a few pieces of sliced cheese, a questionable looking apple he found behind the coffee pot on the counter, and a piece of pumpkin pie leftover from a few nights ago.

He poured himself a glass of milk and took a seat at the table.

_She'll have to make us some real food eventually… She won't just let me starve… Right?_

He seriously contemplated whether that was a rhetorical question or not while he devoured his food.

Hunger somewhat sated, he turned his attention to the next biggest matter at hand: _What am I going to do today?_

He had no one to spend Christmas with; no one to eat with, no one to play games with, no one to watch movies with, no one to open presents with.

He was alone.

Any other day this would not have bothered Stan too much. He would have contently sat in his room and played videogames by himself, no real problem at all. But today, today was different. Whether he felt this indescribable loneliness because everyone else in South Park was either sitting around the Christmas tree opening presents as a family or sitting around the table eating ham and mashed potatoes, laughing and sharing stories; or simply just because he was ten years old and did not have a family to celebrate Christmas with for the first time ever, the feeling was the same.

Today he needed someone, someone other than Shelly.

He slipped on his jacket and pulled on his hat and gloves as he approached the door.

"Where do you think you're going, turd?" Shelly questioned, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

The only thing he knew about where he was going was that he was not staying here.

He ignored her and walked through the door out into the cold, knowing full-well he would pay for that later.

Stan commenced to do the only thing he could: try to find someone who was not busy to spend Christmas with.

He knew it was a stupid idea, but he at least had to try.

The fridge mountain air stung his face with subzero temperatures mercilessly.

After a few minutes of walking, he realized he was nearing the Donovan residence.

Sure, Stan and Clyde were not _that_ good of friends but… _Maybe…?_

Nearing the multiple cars lined up on the curb of the street in front of the house, Stan stopped on the sidewalk.

Through a large picture window he could see many joyful people sitting at a large dinner table.

_Aunts, uncles, grandmas, grandpas, cousins… Geez, Clyde; got the whole family over…_, Stan sighed and continued walking.

A few more blocks down the street, he neared another classmate's house.

_Butters! I wonder if he's doing anything…_

The boy hurried to door but just before he knocked, a flash caught his eye through the adjacent window.

Stan hopped into their flower bed and peaked over the windowsill into the house.

Butters was sitting with his parents on the couch laughing wildly at some Christmas movie.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and kept going.

A little further down the street, another classmate: Eric Cartman.

Under normal circumstances the thought of hanging out with Cartman even in a group almost makes him cringe. But today, as selfish as it may be, he would even settle for Cartman… Settle for alone with Cartman…

As he approached the door he noticed a vehicle from Nebraska parked in the driveway.

"Oh, sweet! This is awesome!"

The familiar voice drew Stan to the nearby window.

Cartman was near the Christmas tree surrounded by a pile of presents holding up what appeared to be a new video game to his mom and grandparents sitting nearby.

"Like you need all those presents, fatass," Stan said spitefully as he continued down the street.

Soon thereafter he reached the edge of town and with it the last classmate on the street.

_Kenny can't be doing anything… His family is too poor to celebrate Christmas._

Stan walked up to the dilapidated home with high hopes.

As he approached the screen door, he was stunned to see what was happening in the house: the entirety of the McCormick family sitting on the floor laughing and playing a board game.

Stan hung his head low as he backed away from the house and began walking toward the nearby Stark's Pond – as good of place as any to be lonely on Christmas. Maybe he would delay Shelly's wrath for another hour or so.

Stepping off the sidewalk into the street near Kenny's house, his feet lost traction on a thick sheet of ice.

He struck the ground hard.

_Figures…_

He cradled his throbbing head, considering just staying on the ground and letting himself freeze to death.

After a few moments he regained his bearings and pulled himself to his feet.

He felt a little dizzy as he wobbled the remaining distance to the pond and dropped onto a bench.

Stan starred across the pond and closed his eyes.

The only thing left to do on this Christmas was stagger back home and get his butt kicked again by Shelly before going to bed hungry the second night in a row.

He sniffled into his sleeve.

"Stan…?" A concerned, familiar voice neared.


	3. Chapter 3

Stan glanced over his shoulder, "Kyle?" He quickly wiped his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Dude, what's the matter? Why were you crying?" Kyle took a seat next to his best friend.

"I – uh – slipped on the ice and hit my head pretty hard…," he covered, not disclosing the true reason.

"Are you okay? Let me see," he plucked the hat off of Stan's head exposing his messy hair.

Kyle examined the back of his head.

"Well, there's no blood or anything," he handed Stan his hat. "Do you feel okay?"

He pulled his hat back on, "I should be alright if I just sit here for a little while longer…"

The two sat in silence for a few moments.

"So… What are you doing out here?"

"Just – you know – watching the water…," Stan glanced back over the pond.

"Stan, it's like negative 30… The pond is ice…"

"Oh…," he acknowledged.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're acting kinda strange… You might have a concussion or something; you should probably go tell your mo –," Stan interrupted him.

"I'm okay Kyle, God!" He sounded annoyed.

"Well sorry for being concerned with your wellbeing, Stan!" Kyle stood up and began to storm off.

"Kyle," Stan called, the other boy looked back. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to get mad."

Kyle sighed and returned to the bench.

"Shouldn't you be in eating or playing games or watching movies or something with your parents? It's Christmas."

"They went on a cruise…"

"Oh… For how long?"

"A week."

"Well, who are you staying with?"

"No one…"

"They left you here alone for a week?!" Kyle exasperated.

"With Shelly…," Stan solemnly added.

"Dude…," Kyle empathized.

"This is the worst Christmas ever!" Stan fumed, "Everyone else has their family to celebrate with and all I have is Shelly! Do you know what it's like to spend Christmas alone?!" He yelled.

"Yeah, Stan; I do know what it's like to spend Christmas alone!" Kyle mocked, "I'm always alone on Christmas! Everyone is always so busy they forget about me completely! Even you, Stan; would it trouble you terribly to even just send me a text message telling me to screw off for the day?!"

"Dude, I'm sorry…," Stan could barely get a word in edgewise.

Kyle continued his rant, "You, Kenny, and everyone else – you're all the same when it comes to this time of year! Just forget I exist from December 24th till January 1st! You expect me to feel bad for you because you're spending one Christmas alone?!" He chortled, "Just because I'm Jewish doesn't mean you have to avoid me every Christmas!"

Kyle looked as if he was ready to attack the other boy.

He turned to face Stan. His rant had almost reduced him to tears; Kyle could see he felt really bad.

He took a deep breath and sat back down close to his friend.

"You're right…," he hiccupped, "I'm a bad friend…"

"Stan…"

"If I make you feel like this every year, you should disown me as a friend and never talk to me again…"

"Stan, I'm not going to disown you as a friend or stop talking to you… I was overreacting; I didn't mean to go off on you. It's not your fault that I'm the only person in town that doesn't celebrate Christmas… I guess I was just being selfish…"

"There's nothing selfish about wanting to spend Christmas with someone even though you don't celebrate it…Out of all the people in the whole world, you think your super best friend would have realized that sooner."

Kyle looked down at his feet and kicked around a chunk of ice, "Well… To be fair, I never really said anything to you…"

"You know what, Kyle?"

"What?"

"I'll make sure you never spend Christmas lonely again."

Kyle smiled as he threw his arm around Stan's shoulder and hugged him tight, "Thanks, dude."

Stan's jacket was soaked from falling on the ice.

Kyle stood up and extended his hand, "What say we head back to my house before we both either catch pneumonia or turn into icicles?"

Stan smiled at his best friend, "Deal!"


End file.
